


Last Call For Sin

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Play Along [36]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, band au, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, any, let that be your last battlefield."</p><p>Finally, Rodney and John are no longer at odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Call For Sin

John had sent Cam a text message right before he arrived at the studio, so the security guard at the door let him in, and then the receptionist checked him in and issued him a visitor pass, and she gave him directions to the studio where the Snakeskinners were working on their next album. John didn’t need much in the way of directions, though, because he could hear Rodney from down the hall.  
  
“So you thought you’d just mash on the buttons and see what came out? Get out of my way before you ruin one of the greatest songs in rock-n-roll history.”  
  
John rounded the corner and paused, nervous. When he peeked through the tiny window in the door, he saw Rodney leaning over the sound panel, a hapless engineer standing off to the side with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Cam, Vala, and Hailey were all watching in vast amusement as Rodney’s hands flew, tweaking dials and flipping buttons.  
  
“Now, Amelia and Grace, from the second chorus.”  
  
“Who died and made you producer?” Landry asked.  
  
The look Rodney shot him was poisonous, but Landry just laughed and turned back to his perusal of the Saturday paper.  
  
John took a deep breath and knocked.  
  
“What?” Rodney snarled.  
  
Vala bounced over and pulled open the door. “John, darling, so good to see you! Have you come to help us out?” She lowered her voice. “Do you think you could get Rodney to calm down a bit? Perhaps a bit of slap and tickle would -”  
  
“John?” Rodney echoed. He turned, eyes widening.  
  
Landry looked up from the paper. “Should I get a field medic in here? Is it going to be World War Three after all?”  
  
“I think, for today, this will be our last battlefield,” Cam said. “Who wants a coffee break? I want a coffee break. The good stuff, not the stuff in the break room.” He waved at Grace and Amelia, beckoned them to step out. He clapped John on the shoulder and said, “Good luck,” as he led the others out of the studio.  
  
When Landry asked who John was, Cam made an off-hand comment about how he was a guitarist Rodney had recruited for his project, and Landry nodded knowingly, and then John and Rodney were alone.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Rodney asked.  
  
“I’m in,” John said. “For your project. And - for you and me.”  
  
“You and me?” Rodney echoed.  
  
“You kissed me.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Didn’t that mean that you’re interested in us trying something together?” John’s heart thumped slowly in his chest, like the back beat for a funeral march. No. Oh no. He’d read this all wrong. He -  
  
Rodney swallowed hard. “John, I -”  
  
“I’m sorry. I just - I’ll go.” John shook his head. He’d been so stupid. He turned and reached for the doorknob, and Rodney put a tentative hand on his wrist.

“John,” he said softly, “you’ve been driving all night. You look tired.”  
  
“You drove all night, too,” John pointed out, and his pulse stuttered.  
  
“Come to bed with me,” Rodney said, and when he tugged, John followed. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Rodney had taken over an unused room, blacked out all the windows, and set up a cot so he could supervise mixing songs overnight. But his heartbeat was roaring in his ears, and Rodney closed the door and switched on his little bedside lamp, and John saw his ubiquitous physics and song books on the little box serving as a nightstand, and the room was bathed in soft golden light.  
  
John didn’t realize how exhausted he was until Rodney guided John over to the bed and sat him down on the edge of it. Rodney knelt and tugged off John’s socks and shoes, and John stared at the top of his head, a little dazed. Rodney reached up and unbuttoned John’s flannel shirt, and when he pushed the shirt off of John’s shoulders, John came alive. He hauled Rodney into a kiss and sprawled on the bed, Rodney on top of him.  
  
“John, no, you need to sleep, you -”  
  
“I need you,” John breathed between kisses. He finished squirming out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt and reached out, tugged on the hem of Rodney’s shirt. “Off. Take it off.”  
  
“We both need to sleep,” Rodney said.  
  
“Stop thinking,” John hissed, “and start sexing me up, dammit, because I’ve wanted this since I was sixteen, and if you think I’m going to sleep when I’m like this, you’re dumber than I thought.” He arched his hips up into Rodney’s for emphasis.  
  
“I’m a genius,” Rodney snapped.  
  
“Prove it.”  
  
Rodney growled and bit down on John’s throat, and John groaned, hips bucking, and finally, finally, it was happening.  
  
Rodney’s dexterous pianist hands came in handy, because he managed to dispense with both their belts and their jeans in short order, and John almost came undone when Rodney dipped his fingertips beneath the waistband of John’s boxers.  
  
“Rodney,” John whispered, clutching Rodney’s shoulders while Rodney used his mouth to make a thorough study of John’s throat and collarbone, “I want you to take me.”  
  
Rodney paused. “Here? Now?”  
  
“Like I said, I’ve been waiting for this since I was sixteen.”  
  
Heat flared in Rodney’s gaze. “You mean -”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You and Mitchell never -”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
And after that, there were no words.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from All These Things That I've Done by The Killers


End file.
